Start Again
by DatNookieThang
Summary: Cookie's choices surrounding Lyon Dynasty have proven to be costly, dangerous and even deadly, but someone from her past could possibly put things back on track. Takes place after episode 209 ("Sinned Against"). Chapter 3: Malcolm reacts to Cookie's health problems, while Anika struggles to hold down the Dynasty while Cookie is away.
1. Of Berkshires and Bodegas

The first time Cookie ever saw a condom, she almost ate it. Mistaking the small, shiny package for some sort of candy or gum, Cookie tore it open with her teeth, then gagged on the taste of spermicide just as Malcolm came into the room.

" _Already? Again?"_ he laughed, and Cookie had to pretend that she had come to get a condom for him. _"Grab another one,"_ Malcolm said. _"That one might be ripped."_ Cookie had never used a condom in her life until then, and running out of them the morning after her first night with Laz hadn't stopped them from having sex for another two days. Laz always pulled out, and Cookie wasn't worried about getting pregnant, not at 45 years old. It never occurred to Cookie that there were far worse fates.

When Cookie had to go to the doctor for what she thought was a routine yeast infection, she kicked herself when the doctor informed her that she had a urinary tract infection – something that was largely caused by unprotected sex. Cookie had already beaten herself up for the whole Laz fiasco. For weeks, she had literally slept with the enemy. Now this.

Despite taking all the stomach-churning pills and drinking cranberry juice until she nearly puked, the infection didn't go away completely. Later that month, it came back with a vengeance, along with stabbing pains in her abdomen. One day, Cookie tried to put on a pair of jeans, and she nearly cried when she tried to button them. She hadn't gained any weight, but her stomach was hurting so badly that Cookie was limited to skirts and dresses for weeks on end.

It took almost two months before the proper diagnosis was determined, and the gynecologist's face was so somber when he came out that Cookie knew she was in trouble before he said a word. _Pelvic inflammatory disease_. The cause was complications from sexually transmitted diseases – diseases with an _s_ , not just one. In Cookie's case, it was chlamydia and gonorrhea. Separately, they weren't too bad. Together, however, the consequences could be so severe that a full hysterectomy was potentially in Cookie's future having been misdiagnosed for so long. That's when Cookie passed out.

The treatment turned out to be even worse than the cure. Though they were just regular antibiotics, they upset Cookie's stomach so badly that she cut her dosage from three times to a day to twice a day because she just couldn't handle the pain and the nausea. Poor Carol stuck around to take care of Cookie for as long as she could. But without Cookie to take her to and from rehab, she began to go back to her old habits, finally taking off for parts unknown once Cookie was too sick to stop her from leaving. It was just one more consequence for Cookie's weekend romp. One more reason Cookie to her to curl up on the couch and cry.

* * *

Shortly after Carol disappeared, Cookie steeled herself enough to pic up her phone and start deleting Laz from her life. All of the texts, which she didn't dare to read again. All the emails, all the pictures, all the messages containing his sexy voice. Cookie was trying not to look at or read anything or listen to anything, but then she'd come across something that made her smile, or let a voice mail play, and that would make her cry all over again. Had Laz really been falling in love with her after all, like he said he was? Was it possible that he was telling the truth? Could a man truly make love to her like he had, knowing it was all just bullshit to get to her money? She still couldn't believe that what he had done to her mind and body was a calculated attempt to seduce her for money. To hell with being betrayed. Cookie felt almost _violated_ by it all.

Cookie was deleting pics by the dozen when one caught her eye. She was kneeling next to a small snowman, one made by Cookie's hand, with **IT'S A BOY!** traced in frost on the window behind her. She'd thought of sending them to her sons as a joke, but ultimately decided not to. These weren't pictures of Laz, but of Malcolm. Cookie hadn't deleted her pictures from that weekend in the Berkshires with Malcolm, nor had she ever looked at them. But now Cookie wanted to remember a time when she felt beautiful and clean and had a man who didn't want to hurt her or steal from her and who treated her sons well.

Cookie never regretted not moving to D.C. with Malcolm. She had an empire to fight for, not to mention her terms of parole forbade such a thing. But Malcolm deserved so much better than what he got from Cookie in return for all he had done for her. Cookie was too cowardly to tell Malcolm that it wasn't going to work. The ignored texts, the unanswered phone calls, and the emails she deleted without reading demonstrated shades of Lucious, but Cookie knew that it was best to just cut him off completely. Malcolm was going to make another woman an amazing husband and father, but Cookie wasn't made to be the wife of a war hero. Cookie, to her core, was born to be a thug's girl.

Laz was a thug. He was a member of the 125th Street Bulls. He carried a gun and turned Cookie on in the worst way. The night he first touched and kissed her body, she had to stop herself from having sex with him right there on the restaurant table. Cookie went to Laz's place the night Hakeem had been kidnapped and beaten and offered herself up to him, straight up. She was desperate to make everything go away.

 _"You said you got me, right?"_  
 _"Yeah, I got you."_

For three days, Laz and Cookie engaged in the kind of mind-blowing, back-banging sex that Cookie had longed for from Malcolm so long ago, back when he treated her to a four-day Kama Sutra clinic instead. But other than loads of dirty language (in two languages, no less), the only thing Laz and Cookie really talked about was Lyon Dynasty. It didn't bother Cookie then, because she just figured Laz was a hard-working hustler like she was. Cookie could see now that Laz was just pumping Cookie for information so he could extort her for even more money later on. Other than being an ex-cop (lie) and a graduate of the University of Texas – hence the longhorn tattoo on his back (lie), Laz hadn't told Cookie much about himself. She didn't even know where he was from.

In comparison, Cookie knew what rank Malcolm was when he was discharged from the navy (Petty 1st Officer), his childhood crush (Jody Watley), and his middle name (Derek). Likewise, Malcolm knew that Cookie's middle name was Diana, that she was proficient on both piano and guitar, and that she had a lifelong crush on Freddie Jackson. While Cookie had spent three days butt-ass naked and eventually went home wearing the same clothes she'd work on her way over, Cookie and Malcolm actually spent more time with their clothes on than off, partially because Cookie regularly needed time to sleep and recover after they made love.

Long ago, shortly before Cookie tried (and failed) to take over Empire, Anika observed that the one thing the two of them had in common was that neither of them knew how to handle being treated well. It was true. Cookie was much more comfortable with Laz, who hadn't even taken her to the corner bodega until she got up and went on her own, than with Malcolm, who had driven three and a half hour drive from Massachusetts _twice_ to make sure that the cabin they stayed in was clean and packed with food and amenities. The problem was that Malcolm turned Cookie into a blushing, giggly woman she barely recognized. Laz made Cookie feel like the bad bitch that she was. Malcolm brought out the side of Cookie that trembled. Laz brought out the side of Cookie that swallowed.

Cookie's hard and fast romance with Laz ran into the six-digit figures by the time it was all over, and Cookie had absolutely nothing to show for it except a son with a scarred back and post-traumatic stress disorder. _"I had no idea that I was gonna fall in love with you,"_ Laz told her when Lucious finally exposed him for what he was: a thief who scammed mothers like her into giving up hundreds of thousands of dollars in "security" and "promotion" and "permit" money. The words rang so false and hollow that Laz would've been better off saying nothing at all. When Laz's body was reported floating down the Hudson two days later, Cookie smiled. The bastard got what he deserved. Still, every time Cookie closed her eyes at night, she saw that goddamned tattoo.

* * *

Other than Lucious, Cookie had only had sex with two men in her life: Laz and Malcolm. It was hard not to compare the two now that she actually had someone to compare. Laz was a lot better than Malcolm in some ways. She felt much more in control when she was with him. That part of Cookie that would always be a nasty bitch who liked it hot and hard and on her hands and knees was a side of Cookie that, for some reason, she didn't feel comfortable exploring with Malcolm.

Yet, the main reason why Cookie was able to even present that side to Laz in the first place was because of Malcolm. Having lost her virginity to Lucious at 14, Cookie saw sex as more of a back-breaking, ass-slapping, hair-pulling kind of thing. She was most comfortable with her butt up in the air and her hair pulled while she screamed until she grew hoarse. Cookie wouldn't go as far as to say she wanted to be tamed, as Carol put it, but she definitely wanted to be dominated. It was Malcolm who taught Cookie how to move and manipulate her body and make a man so weak that he had no choice but to follow her lead. It made Cookie uncomfortable and self-conscious at first, but Malcolm never teased her or embarrassed her about the fact that Cookie had no idea what the hell she was doing until she finally began to get it right. It wasn't until she was with Laz that Cookie discovered how much she actually _liked_ being in control. And Laz had loved Cookie taking charge in the bedroom. She just wished she'd been able to show more of that side to Malcolm, who deserved to witness her sexual growth, than with Laz, who didn't deserve Cookie at all.

That wasn't to say that Malcolm was perfect. He was just as intense and competitive as Cookie, and he had to be right about _every_ fucking thing. He could grow moody and shut down very quickly. But it was Malcolm's insecurities about Lucious that drove Cookie the craziest. Cookie had a feeling that was that reason that while Malcolm could make love like a god, he wouldn't just straight up fuck her because Malcolm didn't want to remind Cookie of Lucious. Secretly, Cookie thought that Malcolm was the closest thing to a white man that she could get without ever being with a white man. His demeanor was that _foreign_ to her.

In spite of all that, Malcolm had a knockout cock – the kind of sex that knocked Cookie out after just one round. Malcolm never expressed resentment for such a thing, nor did he ever gloat about it. Malcolm made Cookie laugh. He made Cookie feel special and beautiful. Cherished, even. Not because or she could cook rock just right or because she had a great ear for music or because she could make a man rich. Just because.

" _Who's the most beautiful woman in the world?"  
"I am." _

For the first time since that the day Malcolm walked out of her life, Cookie realized that there was more than one way to be hard. Malcolm didn't turn her on like Lucious or Laz did. He lacked the swagger and aggressiveness that Cookie found to be so sexy. Forget the sidewalk – Malcolm's life was a red velvet carpet on a yellow brick road compared to Lucious, who had to sell drugs just to eat, or Laz, who had (supposedly) grown up in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. But was Malcolm – an ex-Navy SEAL who had earned the Silver Star for bravery during a war - really any less tough than Lucious or Laz just because he didn't wear it on his chest?

When it was all said and done, Malcolm had a confidence that Cookie found irresistible. With his third generation naval legacy, Eagle Scout honors and near-perfect grade point average, Malcolm could've gone to Annapolis and cruised through his military career until he retired with a plush officer's salary. Instead, Malcolm earned his place in an elite fighting force, then signed up to fight and defend some of the most hostile territories in the world. What could be tougher than that?

It was selfish of her, but Cookie wished so hard that Malcolm was there to hold her now, just as he'd held her the night he'd shot Reg and slept over at her house just to make sure she'd get a good night's rest. It was funny how both Lucious and Laz had sex with her on nights when she was clearly distraught and using sex as a distraction, but Malcolm had turned her down that night for the very same reason _. "Not like this, Cookie,"_ he'd told her gently, even when Cookie all but begged him to make love to her. _"It wouldn't be right."_ That was just one more example of how Malcolm had truly been the better man – and for Cookie, possibly the best man she could have ever wanted or had.

Cookie had never cried over losing Malcolm, largely because letting him go didn't feel like a true loss. Now, lying on her couch, rocking back and forth with nothing but winter wonderland memories and a heating pad on her abdomen, Cookie cried until she couldn't breathe. She missed Malcolm so much that it hurt worse than her body did. Maybe this whole PID thing was karma. If it was, Cookie knew that she deserved it. She'd been a fool to have a man like Malcolm, then throw him away. _God, if I ever get another crack at a man like Malcolm,_ Cookie thought as the doorbell startled her _, I swear I'll do right by him._

And then, on the other side of Cookie's door, there he was.

TBC

* * *

Note 1: The title of this story comes from the song by Teenage Fan Club: _"even though it's complicated/we got time to start again"_

Note 2: In Episode 110 ("Die but Once"), Lucious is told that Malcolm put in for a "long weekend". In the United States, that would fall on a Thursday and end on a Sunday. Hence, the reference to Cookie having spent four days with Malcolm, not three.


	2. Of Cotton and Cassava Cake

_Laz Delgado._

It was Malcolm's job to study things. The way the suave Hispanic man was ducking the cameras and obscuring his face during a live stream of a Dynasty event made Malcolm suspicious. It was like homeboy didn't want to be seen. Plus, that name was needling him for some reason.

Malcolm did a little calling around and a whole lot of background checking. It took a while, but Malcolm found what he was looking for: a news story about Laz when he was going by the name Sandino. He'd married a lovely young lounge singer about seven years ago, then had her house put in his name, promptly sold it for the money, and disappeared. Cold-blooded bastard, too – his wife was raising her dead sister's three children.

Immediately, Malcolm called Cookie to relay the information, only to discover that Cookie had blocked his phone number once she'd broken things off with him. Malcolm's emotions ranged from embarrassment to anger and everything in-between. In the past, Malcolm had considered sending her an email or some flowers to congratulate her after the party crash that put Lyon Dynasty on the map, but Malcolm already simped himself by asking her to move to D.C. with him, so he didn't. Now he couldn't reconnect with Cookie even if he wanted to.

 _Security issues._ Malcolm thought a few months later, a smirk on his face as TMZ spilled all the tea about Cookie's new financial woes, plus the rumors of Hakeem's supposed attack and assault _. Sandino strikes again._ Had Cookie not done Malcolm so dirty, he could've saved her from such humiliation. "Fuck her," Malcolm said aloud. He didn't mean it, but it felt good to say.

Hakeem Lyon contacted Malcolm about two months later. Cookie's Cookout was back on, and Lyon Dynasty was in the black again. Now Hakeem wanted to make sure that everything ran forward smoothly. For that he needed security – the best security that money could buy. "I'm sorry, Hakeem," Malcolm responded. "But I don't do commercial security anymore. I can give you the numbers of a couple of people I know, though."

"Look, Malcolm. I get why you're still mad at my mom-"

"This isn't about your mother, Hakeem-"

"-but what happened, this whole breach thing…it's foul, man. Really messed up. Just let me explain, man. Gimme two minutes. Okay?"

With that, Hakeem told Malcolm the whole story: about how Cookie had been snowed in by the handsome Laz-dino, how Laz led her on in order to bilk her for her money and slept with her at the same time, how they'd kidnapped him and beat him up, how Laz convinced Cookie to hire the very men who had beaten him _("Wait, what?"_ Malcolm asked incredulously).

"You know what my mom told Porsha once?" Hakeem said out of nowhere. "She said you were the best man she'd ever had in her life."

"Then why did she block my phone calls?" Malcolm questioned coolly. He didn't care about Cookie any more. He didn't…

"You know why," Hakeem said quietly, sadly. "You know why my mother had to cut herself off from you completely."

Of course Malcolm knew. _Lucious_.

For a while, the men sat in awkward silence. "I believe in my mother's dream, Malcolm. So will you when you see it up close. It's just…" Hakeem took a ragged breath, and Malcolm could hear the pain in his voice. "It's just that don't want to die for it. That's all."

* * *

So here Malcolm was two days later, jaw set, face grim, totally professional as he waited for Hakeem to meet him at Cookie's home. "We're going to have to have it out sooner or later," Malcolm said when Hakeem asked if Malcolm wanted to wait until Hakeem showed up to see Cookie. "Besides, this is about business. Nothing more." He could practically hear Hakeem smirking through the phone, but it was true. Malcolm was here for Hakeem, not for Cookie. This wasn't a social call. This was-

 _"Malcolm!?"_

-a mistake. That's what this was. Malcolm thought he'd purged Cookie out of his system. She was just a one-time thing. And she wasn't even a particularly good time, either. Cookie with her clumsy, awkward touches, her self-loathing masked by bravado and shit-talking, her need to bury herself in blankets and towels even _after_ they'd slept together. Cookie hadn't even come from underneath their blanket the first time they had sex, and her dry-ass, tip-only _I-don't-wanna-look-too-much-like-a-ho_ blow jobs should have been barred by law. Definitely a woman whose was more talk than action.

But once he was finally inside of her, Cookie felt so good that Malcolm felt like he was going to burst. She would stop, stall, go, whimper, stop, stall...it was too much to take. " _Ride!"_ Malcolm finally ordered, smacking Cookie on the thigh.

Cookie looked down at him in shock. "So much for me being in charge, huh?" she choked, betrayed.

Malcolm seized Cookie from behind her neck and jerked her down for a long, deep kiss. "Listen to me, Cookie. If I was in charge, you wouldn't be wearing that top, I wouldn't be wearing this condom, and we would've been finished 20 minutes ago. Now, _take_ it," he ordered as Cookie sat up, her deer-in-headlights expression replaced with a look of determination. "Take it like you take everything else that's yours." Malcolm might have pissed Cookie off or shaken her up, but she rode Malcolm like a bicycle in the Tour de France for the rest of the trip.

Before Malcolm could tell Cookie that he was strictly there on a professional matter, Cookie shot into his arms and buried her face in his chest. All of Malcolm's resolve melted. "Hello, Cookie," Malcolm greeted softly, succumbing to the warmth that was spreading across his body. Cookie, who bit her lip as her hands and lips and tongue shyly explored his body, whose honey-colored skin glowed underneath firelight, who came to life with a little coaching and a _lot_ of encouragement. With her head thrown back, body tense, hips thrusting forward and hands flat on his chest, watching Cookie experience her first climax that wasn't tied to Lucious was the most beautiful thing Malcolm had ever seen.

When Cookie looked down at Malcolm after the first time they made love - her thigh still stinging from that pop Malcolm gave her - shock was written all over her face once again. It was as if she'd forgotten that it was Malcolm, not Lucious, had brought her so much pleasure. Then she laughed – a boisterous, joyful, newly liberated laugh. Every orgasm was a blow against Lucious's hold on her, and Cookie rained a lot of blows on Lucious that weekend. She laughed a lot, too.

"I would've called," Malcolm murmured in her ear as Cookie nuzzled the crook of Malcolm's neck. "But you blocked my number."

"I know." Cookie squeezed Malcolm even tighter. "I'm so sorry, Malcolm. You didn't deserve that, I know." She pulled away from him, then took his face in her hands. "Forgive me? Please?"

Well, at least Cookie had acknowledged that Malcolm hadn't done anything to deserve the way she'd treated him. "We'll see," Malcolm said, a smile tugging at his lips. How could he not forgive her when Cookie was looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes? "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Yeah! Well…I guess so. It's a mess in here, I'm sorry." Just as Malcolm remembered, Cookie's apartment was clean, but cluttered. The all-jungle-all-the-time motif had been largely overhauled. Malcolm glanced at the stuff lying on Cookie's coffee table. Blanket, heating pad, hot tea... _yep_. Malcolm had two sisters, so he knew all the signs of the dreaded Aunt Flo. He wasn't sure about the pharmacy sitting on her coffee table, though. Come to think of it…

 _Wow…is that Cookie?_

Cookie didn't look bad, but she did look rough as hell. Malcolm knew Cookie griped about wanting to lose a few extra pounds, but it seemed like Cookie had lost more than a few. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes bloodshot and dull, even jaundiced. Cookie had never been a youthful-looking woman, but now she looked every bit of her 45 years. Still, even in a sloppy ponytail, baggy sweats and fuzzy, mismatched socks, Cookie Lyon was still the most beautiful woman Malcolm had ever seen.

Meanwhile, Cookie couldn't believe how young Malcolm was looked now that his hair and mustache were aligned with the personal grooming regulations at his job. With his hair trimmed low and his facial hair all but gone, Malcolm barely looked a day over 30. And Cookie _knew_ she was looking raggedy. They were only three years apart, but Malcolm looked as if he could be Cookie's son. In a way, it helped the situation. Malcolm wasn't sexy anymore – he looked far too youthful to be sexy - but he was still so beautiful. Malcolm's aura just radiated all around him. "So what are you doing back here in New York?" Cookie swiftly gathered up all the pills, along with a couple of pamphlets, and shoved them into a kitchen drawer.

"Hakeem called about wanting some security for the Cookout." Malcolm didn't mention Laz, but Cookie knew that Malcolm knew what was up. "Is everything okay?"

It was such a loaded question, and what could Cookie say other than "yeah"? _Malcolm, the last guy I had sex with took all my money, kidnapped my child and gave me two STDs. I still might lose everything I've worked for. Oh, and I might have to have a hysterectomy. Good seeing you, though!_ "So…" Cookie took Malcolm's hands and led him to the couch. "What's going on in your life?"

"Well…the job's going well, and I'm thinking about going back to school like we talked about...and I'm engaged." Malcolm said more, but Cookie didn't hear him. Why was she so surprised? Malcolm was a great guy. Of course he would move on from her. He deserved happiness. Malcolm deserved a woman who knew a good thing when she –

" _Engaged!?"_ Cookie interrupted Malcolm, her body growing numb.

"Yeah. Engaged." Malcolm had the nerve to smile. "Her name is Jazmine."

As if Cookie gave a damn what the bitch's name was. "Then why are you here?"

"I'm here to help, Cookie," Malcolm explained. "I don't want to see anything happen to you," he called as Cookie jerked away from him, standing with her back turned. "I'm here as a friend."

"A _friend?_ " It took everything in Cookie's body not to slap Malcolm. He'd come back to her in her dreams, then back into her life as a _friend_? Was he secretly here to gloat about how he'd been able to move on? He had to be. Because certainly Malcolm knew that Cookie didn't give a damn that Malcolm's new girl was a teacher, a military brat, a Broadway fanatic, a Master of Education…

 _Wait a minute._ Something about the description of Malcolm's girl was triggering Cookie's memory. She turned around and glared at Malcolm, whose lips were twitching slightly. _"Punk ass!"_ Cookie shrieked, throwing herself on top Malcolm with all her might. Jazmine was the name of Malcolm's youngest sister, who had just started graduate school when the two of them went away together.

"Oh, God…the look on your face..." Malcolm gasped, pulling Cookie into his arms. "You weren't even going to pretend to be happy for me, were you?" he teased, tickling her gently while she squealed. It hurt like hell, but Cookie didn't care. "So jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Cookie threw her arms around Malcolm and pouted. "I just want you to have the best, that's all."

"Oh?" Malcolm teased, sitting Cookie in his lap. "Who's the best for me, Cookie?" When Cookie didn't answer, he placed kisses over both of her eyelashes. "Could it be the most beautiful woman in the world?"

That sweet, sexy smile of Malcolm's made Cookie's heart melt. "Maybe," Cookie said with a confidence that she didn't really feel.

"Maybe," Malcolm repeated, his voice low and husky. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted it upward. "Who's the most beautiful woman in the world?"

When Cookie didn't answer, Malcolm's hand slid down to the belt on her bath robe. Even after Cookie got to the point that she was strolling around the cabin wearing nothing but her gray snakeskin boots – which looked even better on Malcolm's shoulders – she still dropped her gaze as Malcolm slowly opened her robe, revealing her bare breasts and stomach. "Look at me, Cookie," Malcolm instructed, and she did. "Who's the most beautiful woman in the world?" he repeated, fully expecting an answer.

"...I am." And for a brief, shining moment, Cookie believed it.

So much between them had gone unsaid that day in her office when Cookie kissed Malcolm goodbye. She would never forget the soft click of the door as he closed it behind him, polite as ever. Cookie's hands were trembling so badly that she collapsed in her chair and cried - partly because she had let Malcolm go, and partly because he actually went. Now he was back. "Why didn't you stay?" she asked as Malcolm's warm, strong hands cupped her breasts, making the muscles in her stomach twitch.

"Because you didn't ask me to," Malcolm answered. "I wasn't about to argue. But I understand now," he went on before Cookie could protest Malcolm's words. "You didn't need me to take care of you. I was wrong to ask."

" _Ooooh_ ," Cookie whispered when Malcolm leaned in and kissed her neck in that place that always made her dizzy. "I didn't want you to leave," she whispered while Malcolm peppered Cookie's neck and chest with kisses. "I wanted you to stay and fight with me. But I understand now," she added when Malcolm pulled back, a quizzical look on his face. "It wasn't your fight. It was mine."

"And you won," Malcolm continued.

"And you're here," Cookie smiled.

"With the most beautiful woman in the world," Malcolm finished. "I'm standing here with the best, Cookie." Their kisses were longer now, deeper and full of wanting. Nothing was between them now except-" _Aah!"_

A sharp, piercing pain in her side brought Cookie out of her reverie and back to real life. Cookie shoved Malcolm away from her and stood, shaking. What was she thinking? Malcolm couldn't come near her for at least two more weeks, if not longer. "I'm sorry, Cookie," Malcolm said. "I wasn't even thinking."

"No, it's okay. I just..." Cookie's eyes burned with tears and shame. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. I just can't right now."

"Cookie." Malcolm was just happy that he hadn't offended her. "You don't have anything to apologize for." He rose from the couch and held Cookie from behind. "Is it okay I hold you?"

Cookie nearly cried with relief. "I'd love that, Malcolm." Sometimes, dreams really _did_ come true.

* * *

Was this what heaven felt like? Malcolm's body was so solid and warm as he wrapped his arms around her. He smelled just as good as he always did. It was a good thing her couch was so large, because Cookie was way too comfortable to move. "Grow your hair back," Cookie ordered, feeling protected in Malcolm's arms. "I don't like you without hair. You look like a virgin."

"A virgin?" Malcolm teased. "Girl, you know better." He bucked his hips, and Cookie laughed. "You okay?" she asked, feeling his arousal underneath her.

"Mmm. I'll be fine." Malcolm kissed Cookie on the cheek and squeezed her. "I've gone without for a lot longer."

"Yeah, but…you might not have to." Emboldened by Malcolm's presence, Cookie stood up, took a breath, and let her robe drop to the floor. Malcolm's eyebrows shot up in appreciation. Sure, Cookie was a little on the skinny side, but it was still a lovely sight. He licked his lips and smiled, eyes twinkling and lips twitching…again. "What?" Cookie asked, knowing that Malcolm was amused by something he was seeing. "What, boy?" Malcolm had seen every imperfection on her body - the stretch marks, the Cesarean section scar from Hakeem's birth, the not-so-small cuts from a botched breast augmentation that had to be redone when Cookie out of prison. He'd kissed them all. So what was so funny?

Malcolm tilted his head back. "Nothing," he said, staring at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

Cookie wasn't buying it. "What? _What_ , Malcolm?" she demanded when Malcolm closed his eyes and pursed his lips.

"Nothing! Really!" Malcolm promised. Then he couldn't hold his laughter back. "Nice panties, Cookie."

Cookie's underwear was the kind that was made for comfort, not for seduction, the kind that came in pairs of six at the local Walmart and were replaced every few months or so. The kind of panties that women with sexually transmitted diseases tended to wear when they didn't want to ruin their sexy underwear with discharges and suppositories. Tears burned in Cookie's eyes as she scrambled for her bath robe. What if Malcolm could smell her sickness?

"Hey _._ Get back here." How crazy was it that Cookie Lyon in a pair of plain black panties was sexier than any other woman could dream of being? "I love your panties," Malcolm promised, his hands full of cotton-clad ass. "They match your socks."

Cookie had forgotten all about her socks. "No! Leave 'em on," Malcolm ordered as Cookie sat back up. There was nothing sexy about them, but they made up Cookie's wonderful, joyful, newly liberated essence from so long ago.

The charming thing about Cookie was that she was equal parts shy and bold. The same woman who spread her legs on her ex-husband's dining room table to flash a picture was the same woman who was too shy to take her top off the first time they made love. So Malcolm wasn't surprised that a topless Cookie straddled his waist, undid his belt buckle and froze before lowering his zipper. "Go for it," Malcolm encouraged Cookie. "You know what to do."

A lifetime ago, Malcolm spent his entire weekend in the Berkshires giving encouragement and barking out commands like he was in a bad Wesley Pipes film. It had all been worth it then, and it was worth it now. With her eyes never leaving his, Cookie dragged the zipper down so slowly that the sound broke the silence in the room. "Welcome back," she greet while Malcolm bit his lip at her velvet touch.

"Glad to be back." And that was all Malcolm could say before Cookie slid backward and lowered her head. Malcolm had been all ready to give Cookie another speech on reciprocity, just as he had the day she tried to go down on him in her office and on the night he took her home after he shot Reg. It wasn't that Malcolm didn't like getting head or anything; he just preferred to do it at a time when he could give as much as he was getting. But this Cookie seemed different somehow. She was more skilled, far more confident, and was definitely enjoying this as much as Malcolm was. _"Oh, fuck,"_ he mumbled, gripping the sides of the couch. Unlike that night with Reg, Cookie didn't seem like she was doing this because she felt obligated or because she was doing Malcolm a favor. Cookie was doing this because what she genuinely wanted was Malcolm's co-

 _"Oh, shit!"_

Now all three Lyons sons, at one point in their lives, had walked in on Cookie being intimate with a man. Like Andre and Jamal before him, Hakeem stood frozen at the door, his face a mixture of shock and disgust at his mother with her head between Malcolm's legs. _"Hakeem!"_ Cookie cried, forgetting that her mouth was full.

 _" **AAAAGGGGGHHHH!"**_ As Malcolm slid to the floor and prayed for death, Cookie jumped to her feet, forgetting that her robe had long been discarded. "Get out, Hakeem! _"_ she screamed.

It was too much for Cookie's youngest son to handle. Hakeem took one look at his mother's department store panties and mismatched socks and Malcolm writhing around on the floor, and howled with laughter. "Get out! _Get out!"_ Cookie screamed, but Hakeem just laughed harder. By the time Cookie dashed to her bedroom and slammed the door, Hakeem had slumped to his knees, his head on the floor.

"Alright, Hakeem." Malcolm's voice was firm, and while it carried no threat behind it, it was enough to sober Hakeem up for a moment. Than Hakeem saw that Malcolm hadn't zipped his pants up, revealing his navy blue and white boxers, and lost it all over again. "Okay, okay, okay!" Hakeem finally gasped, pulling himself together. "Thanks for coming, Malcolm." Hakeem reached out to shake Malcolm's hand, then stopped. "Did you wash your hands, young man?" he asked, a comically serious look on his face.

"Wash this, you little punk." In the blink of an eye, Malcolm had Hakeem in a headlock. "Aaggh!" Hakeem tried to wriggle out of Malcolm's grasp, to no avail. "Not the hair, man! _Not the hair!"_

"Get him, Malcolm!" Cookie encouraged, coming from her bedroom in 76ers sweats and socks that matched. She rushed over and delivered a few playful swats of her own. Finally, Malcolm and Cookie decided to let poor Hakeem be. "Are those the blueprints I asked you for?" Malcolm asked, pulling Cookie into his lap on the couch as he gestured to a large bag in Hakeem's hand.

"Nah, those are in that tube over there. This stuff's from Anika." Hakeem placed the bag on the table and began pulling out Caribbean cuisine. "She said she made too much soup last night and thought it might make you feel better. Y'know, because of the nausea and everything."

"Nausea?" Malcolm looked at Cookie, who tensed up in his arms. "Cookie, you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Cookie said. "And how does she know I have nausea, Big Mouth?"

"Sorry, Ma," Hakeem said contritely. "She was asking me how you were doing and I might've said something about how you haven't been eating…"

"Hakeem!" Cookie hissed. Dammit, didn't this boy know better than to do all that talking?

"…and she said that coconut soup is a good cure for nausea. Not sure what all the rest of this is, but she says it's really hard to cook for just one person."

"Or just two people," Cookie said sourly. That bitch still had her baby's nose wide open. Hakeem didn't confirm his mother's words, though the smile on his face said it all. "I ain't eating anything she cooked. She probably cursed it."

"Bet! Can I have it?" Hakeem was already grabbing a spoon. "Malcolm, you hungry? My baby can cook."

"Sure, I'll take some." Cookie shot him a dirty look, but Malcolm just shrugged and smiled. It had been a long time since he'd had homecooked island food. "So you hired Anika back, huh?" he asked Cookie, who was checking out the spread with more than just a casual eye.

"Yeah." Cookie would never admit it, but Lyon Dynasty's saving grace was Anika Calhoun. Cookie broke down in tears before she was able to pull herself together and call Anika. Cookie had her knee pads and lubricant in place, ready to kiss as much high-yella ass as need. But Anika handled the situation with surprising grace. "Just tell me when to come back to work, Cookie," she interrupted. From there, Anika took the shambles that was the LD financial department and put it back together, penny by penny.

Hakeem always thought it was a shame that Cookie and Anika couldn't admit their mutual admiration for one another. Secretly, Anika adored Cookie. Likewise, Cookie was very protective of Anika, almost like a mother figure. Hakeem told Malcolm over the phone how Cookie had fired a Dynasty employee who was making inappropriate comments about her. And Malcolm, Guyanese boy that he was, knew that _I made too much_ food was Caribbean for _I made this for you._ Anika was looking out for her boss, but she would never admit it.

"Did you say that's coconut soup?" Malcolm asked, reaching for the spoon Hakeem was handing him. "If it is, you eat it cold." There was more than just soup. There was rice seasoned with broccoli and beef, some fresh baked zucchini rolls and a small cake that Hakeem discreetly handed to Malcolm to hide from his mother.

Malcolm took a small sip from his bowl and was impressed. Anika didn't strike Malcolm as a woman who knew how to cook, but this was straight up, 100% island food. It wasn't his mother's cooking, but it was damned good for a younger woman living in America. "You said you didn't want any, right?" Malcolm asked Cookie.

Cookie looked over at Malcolm and Hakeem. "Why?" she asked curiously, trying not to be distracted by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

"Oh…nothing," Malcolm answered, just before he and Hakeem lunged for the Tupperware bowl containing the bread. "Hey! Hey!" Cookie yelled above the ruckus. _"Gimme my soup!"_

"You said we could have it!" Hakeem yelled, laughing at Malcolm was forced to concede to Hakeem or risk spilling all of the bread onto the floor. "Here, Ma." Hakeem served Cookie a bowl of coconut soup. "Just get something in your stomach, okay? It doesn't have to be a whole lot."

Cookie spooned a bite of soup, then closed her eyes and let out a moan that could've rivaled any one of her orgasms in the Berkshires. "Oh, my God." After just two bites, Cookie tossed the spoon to the side and began to slurp the soup straight of the bowl. It was her first real meal in weeks.

"Wait, Cookie. Slow down." Being a former sailor, Malcolm knew better that food served in close quarters under stressful circumstances led to heightened reactions. Jamal learned the hard way when he snatched a shrimp off Cookie's lap and nearly had his hand speared. So Malcolm approached her from the front, but Cookie jerked away anyway. "You're going to make yourself sick if you eat too much too soon, Cook. Slow down on that soup, okay?"

"My soup," Cookie said, clutching her bowl possessively. She'd get sick if she wanted to.

"Anika sent over some bread, too. Do you wa-" Hakeem didn't even finish before Cookie snatched the container of rolls. "Damn, Ma," Hakeem marveled, so grateful to see his mother eating food again. "You gonna eat all of that?"

"Mmm-hmm," Cookie replied through a mouthful of bread, which she chased down with a swallow of soup. Anika had sent over enough food to last Cookie for a week, but Malcolm wasn't too sure she was going to make it to Wednesday.

"Can we at least get a roll?" Malcolm asked. He hadn't had good zucchini bread in years. Judging by the way Cookie was tearing up hers, Anika could bake as well as she could cook. "Just a little piece of bread?"

"My bread," Cookie mumbled, cramming another roll in her mouth.

"Please, Cookie?" Malcolm was just as happy to see Cookie enjoying her meal as Hakeem was. "Just the crust? A little bitty crumb?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Well," Hakeem reasoned, "anyone who eats this much bread can't possibly have any of the cassava cake Anika sent over."

"Cake?" Cookie's eyes lit up like Christmas.

"Yeah, cake." Malcolm grinned. "But we won't tell you where it is until we get some food."

Cookie glared at Malcolm, as if she couldn't believe she had to give up some of her food in exchange for homemade cake. She scowled and gestured to the silverware drawer, unaware that that was the drawer that held all her pills and _So Your Nasty Ass Got Burned by a Pendejo Like a Dumb Bitch_ information. Cookie didn't hear the rattle of the medication, or the change of tone in Malcolm's voice when he spoke to her. She was too busy face down in her soup, dreaming of cassava cake.

TBC

* * *

 _Note: I truly believe Adam Rodriguez is the worst actor since Keanu Reeves, and I will never miss an opportunity to shade his bullshit career. And yes, the Sandino story is Tyler Perry reference, where Adam's character (Sandino) married Taraji's character (April).  
_

 _Note 2: If you go back and watch the love scene at the Berkshires, you'll notice that, for whatever reason, Cookie still has her top on while she's having sex with Malcolm.  
_

 _Note 3: For those of you who have not been blessed with the presence of Wesley Pipes in your life, just Google "Wesley Pipes quotes." You're welcome._


	3. Of Drips and Drops

_"Ladies and gentlemen, the queen is in the building!"_

The front lobby of Lyon Dynasty filled with cheers as Cookie, Malcolm and Hakeem entered the building. While Cookie stood out in the lobby, soaking up the applause and cheers that her return had caused, Tierney Pearson was chatting Cookie up as if she hadn't withdrawn $8,492.97 from the rainy day account just 40 minutes ago. How would big, bad-ass Cookie Lyon feel knowing that while she was out on sick leave, three of her employees were trying to rob her blind?

Anika was the head of the finance officers, which merely made her the head snitch in charge. That person reported to the chief financial officer – in the case, the one who was stealing from Dynasty. All Anika could do was grit her teeth and remain hypervigilant for the sake of her job. It could never get back to Cookie that even a dime was out of place while she was away. Anika didn't catch the last transaction fast enough, and there was nothing Anika could do but swallow it and replace the money from her own savings. Even though Anika had grown up with money and $8,500 didn't exactly break her bank, Anika couldn't afford Cookie being gone for much longer.

It wasn't just about way more than money. At Empire, Anika would know exactly what to do – gather the activity logs, take them to Lucious and watch as those who needed to get got, got got. Here, Anika was the stranger in hostile territory holding a position that any undergraduate business student could've done. If Anika reported to Cookie that people were trying to rob her, Cookie would just take that as a sign that Anika didn't belong. She had to prove herself.

Anika knew that her reappearance at Lyon Dynasty had more to do with Hakeem's love for her, not Anika's financial acumen. _"If Anika had been here, none of this shit would've happened!"_ she heard Hakeem screaming at his mother over the telephone one day. Anika thought Hakeem was talking about the death of the Cookout that day, but it turned out to be a lot deeper than that. What Hakeem meant was that had Anika never been fired from Dynasty, she would've done due diligence, asked the questions, and informed Cookie that permit money was to be paid to Parks and Recreation, not some guy named Big Heavy.

Upon returning to Dynasty, Cookie stuck Anika in a broom closet at the end of the hall, which was just fine with Anika. Their interactions were minimal. Anika's boss was the budget. The numbers were what made her happy. Slowly, slowly, Anika found money, made money, saved money. She was surprised when Cookie brought in somebody else as Dynasty's Chief Financial Officer – Anika had always just thought of herself as the CFO by default – but she told herself that she care that Tierney got all the glory, just as long as Anika had the numbers.

And Hakeem. She had Hakeem, too. Anika attributed a lot of Hakeem's post-kidnapping behavior to Cookie's ex-boyfriend and the ordeal with the 125th Street Bulls. Hakeem clung to her, pushed her away, disrespected her, begged for her back. He got on Vine and told the world he was single. Got on the 'gram and told everyone that he loved Anika Calhoun. Freaked out when she found out she was pregnant, then cried almost as hard as she did when she miscarried in her 13th week of pregnancy. The most bizarre moment of the past few months was when Hakeem called Anika from a bathroom, sobbing because he'd just smoked something that was messing with his head. Her number was the only number that Hakeem remembered and could she please come get him? Just this one time?

Whatever Anika and Hakeem had – and it was impossible to figure out exactly what the hell that was - was working for them. They were grown. They weren't hurting anybody. Oddly, nobody had a problem with it except Cookie. Even Lucious had written her off as a typical tramp, which was fine as long as Lucious wasn't messing with Anika's man or Anika's money. One day, Hakeem flat out told Cookie that he wasn't about to choose between his girlfriend and his mother. Either they could learn to co-exist, or Cookie could simply be mad. Cookie had chosen the latter. Like with the CFO issue, Anika told herself that she didn't care, but she did. She truly did.

* * *

One of the advantages of being down the hall was that Anika could hear Cookie's loud ass stomping up the hall from a mile away. It also allowed for a bit of privacy when Hakeem came looking for her, which was often. Despite Cookie's loud, shrill protests, Hakeem never made it a secret that Anika was his girl. It was one of the sources of Anika's biggest grief – none of the other financial officers respected her. Never mind that Anika had helped put Empire on the map for nearly six years, or that she had a master's degree from Columbia, or that she worked as a certified accountant during graduate school. They just _knew_ she had slept her way back into Dynasty. It was hard to hold her head up sometimes.

Then again, it was hard not to when Hakeem strode through her door, walking as if he was 10 feet tall and calling her _my lady_. "So you got Malcolm on board, huh?" Anika asked, not swatting him away as she usually would have. On days like this, she could use a little affection.

"Yeah, I got him…ol' slick ass." Hakeem began to snicker.

"What's so funny?" Hakeem's snickering morphed into something between a giggle and snort. "What happened?"

"Malcolm…him and Cookie…" It was all Hakeem managed to get out before he started laughing. Through hand motions and choked words, Anika got the gist of what Hakeem had walked into. Anika tried not to laugh – Cookie was her boss, after all – but Hakeem's laughter was infectious. Soon, they were both cracking up.

"So Cookie's finally out of bed, huh? How much longer is she going to be out?"

"Not sure. I know the medication is making her sick. She hasn't been taking it. But," Hakeem added as pulled Anika close while she tried not to cry, "She's finally out of bed thanks to your cooking. How much more of that soup you got at home?"

"I don't. You have to eat island food fresh. It's not really the leftovers type."

"Well, damn." Hakeem frowned. "I don't know what we're gonna do, then. Your food is the only food I've seen her eat since she's been off work."

"Really?" Finally, they'd touched on something that Cookie actually appreciated about Anika.

"Yeah, really. So…" Hakeem gave Anika his most charming smile. "Maybe if you could cook my mom up some more food-"

Was this boy serious? "If Cookie wants more food, all she has to do is ask for it." Anika bristled under the idea that on top of making sure Cookie wasn't being robbed, she was also supposed to be her short-order cook. "She knows where I work."

"C'mon, Anika," Hakeem wheedled. "You _know_ she's not going to ask."

"And why is that?"

"Because she's trflin' as hell. See? See?" Hakeem pointed at Anika's smile, because God knew what Hakeem was saying about his mother was true. "It doesn't even have to be anything all that complicated. I just need my mom to be out of bed. I bet she can't take her medication on an empty stomach and that's why she's so sick. Just more soup, maybe? She _loves_ the soup."

"Cookie can't just live off soup for days on end, you know."

"So you'll fix some more stuff, right?"

"Well…"

A firm knock on Anika's doorway drew their attention. "Hello, Anika." Malcolm remembered Anika putting drops in Elle Dallas's drink on the night of the investor concert. He'd immediately reported it to Lucious, who was furious about what happened until he found out Anika did it. But if Cookie had let it be – and so had Elle, as she was now a Dynasty artist and Anika's face was still intact – then he wouldn't be the one to bring it all back up.

"Hi, Malcolm." It was hard being before the man who caught her drugging Elle Dallas, but he just smiled and kissed her cheek anyway. "You're going to be here for a while?"

"For a couple of weeks, at least," Hakeem said, making no effort to extract himself from Anika, despite the look on his mother's face. "Hey, Cookie," Anika said pointedly. She'd be damned if she was going to be disrespected in front of her boyfriend.

"Hey."

Anika waited for Cookie to give some sort of thanks – or at least acknowledgement – of the food Anika had cooked so that she'd feel better. _Why_ Anika was waiting for such a watershed moment, she had no idea. Frowning at his mother, Hakeem picked up the reins. "I was just telling Anika how much better you feel now that she's had some home cooking," he prompted.

Cookie just nodded, and Anika felt her spine losing its steel. God, she wished Cookie would just leave so she could get back to work. It was good enough to know that Hakeem disapproved of Cookie's lack of grace. Malcolm looked equally displeased, much to Anika's petty delight. "You're taking your medication on a full stomach, right?" Anika pressed, enjoying Cookie's discomfort. "I know your meds probably has to be taken on a full stomach, whatever you're taking…"

"I don't remember what it's called," Cookie said truthfully. "Dexa…disa…"

"Doxycycline," Anika and Malcolm said together – Anika as a question, Malcolm as a statement.

Cookie froze. She looked over at Malcolm, who had the damndest look on his face. He knew. He _knew._ Of course he knew. He was Malcolm fucking DeVeaux, knower of every goddamned fucking thing. And if Malcolm knew, then certainly Anika – the doctor's daughter – also knew what was going on. Cookie ducked her head as her eyes filled with tears in the silence that followed. They knew she had a disease. How nasty she was. How stupid she was. They _knew_.

"I remember when I had to take Doxy in college," Anika mused aloud. "Horrible stuff."

" _You_ took it _?"_ Cookie always assumed that Anika was busting it open throughout her boarding school days, but she didn't expect her to admit it so openly.

"For my skin," Anika clarified. "Doxy's used for all kinds of stuff. It's just a regular antibiotic. As long as you take it exactly the way the prescription is written up, your stomach virus should clear up in no time."

As Cookie contemplated such news, Malcolm shot Anika a raised eyebrow. What Cookie and Hakeem didn't know – and what Anika and Malcolm _did_ know – was that doxycycline fought bacteria, not viruses. There was only one reason why a woman Cookie's age would need to take such a medication in such a dose that it would make her leave work for so long. But for whatever reason, Anika had thrown Cookie a lifeline without her even knowing it.

"She's supposed to take it three times a day," Malcolm informed Anika. "And I haven't seen her take it even once since I got here."

"Ohhhh. That's no good." Anika nearly had a nervous breakdown on the spot. At this rate, Anika would be pimping herself to old white lesbians again to make up for the missing money.

"I can't take all of it," Cookie protested feebly. "It makes me sick."

"But eating Anika's cooking makes you feel better, right?" Hakeem prompted.

"Yeah. It does." Cookie looked over at Anika, whose eyes were fixed intently on a bauble on her desk. "Thank you." Three heads snapped in Cookie's direction. "I haven't been able to keep anything down for a week," she confessed. "I…I appreciate it."

While Malcolm and Hakeem looked around to see if Hell had frozen over, Anika just nodded. She wanted to say something encouraging, or at least ask her if there was anything else she could do, but it would've been uncomfortable for them both. "Cookie, if you don't take the _exact_ dosage – preferably at the exact time – you can Doxy take it for 10 years and it won't clear up a thing. You have to get to a doctor as soon as you can."

"I'll get it squared away, Anika," Malcolm promised. He winked at her, and Anika smiled back. Hakeem scowled. So did Cookie. "Aren't you supposed to be going back to work in a couple of days?" she asked pointedly.

"I can't build a security system from my house, Cookie."

"So what, you think you're gonna just crash at my house for two weeks?"

"Did you see my bags on your doorstep?" Malcolm asked tersely.

 _Ah, shit._ Now it was Anika and Hakeem exchanging looks. "Malcolm," Hakeem spoke up, "if you could stay with my mom for these next couple of weeks, I'd really appreciate it. You know she's not gonna take the medication unless you're standing over her."

"I can take care of myself!" Cookie's voice rose. "Well, I can!" she insisted as Hakeem, Anika and Malcolm all exchanged _why-the-fuck-she-lyin_ looks.

"Anika, can you keep her fed for the next couple of weeks?" Malcolm asked. "I'll make sure she's taking her medication with food."

"Sure." Anika sounded even less thrilled about feeding Cookie than Malcolm was about being her nurse. But Anika would've flown Cookie to Cayman and back if it made her better quicker.

"Well, then. That's settled." Malcolm addressed Cookie at last. "Cookie, call your doctor and tell him you need the first appointment available. We'll go from there."

Cookie glared at Malcolm, but wordlessly stomped off to do her biding. "Impressive," Anika admired. Cookie might have been able to twist Lucious around her finger, but Malcolm DeVeaux wasn't Lucious Lyon. Then the familiar _beep-beep_ filled the air, and Anika bit her lip. "Sorry, guys. I'll get that."

"So you gonna take care of my mama?" Hakeem asked as Anika went to check her email. He didn't really know how he felt about that. On one hand, Hakeem didn't like Malcolm bossing Cookie around the way he just did. On the other hand…

"Somebody has to," Malcolm said wryly, and Hakeem relaxed a little. If nothing else, he knew that Malcolm would take his job seriously. And if he got a little nookie from Cookie on the side, that was their business. Still… _ew_. "Maybe you shouldn't use your key so much these next couple of weeks," Malcolm suggested, reading Hakeem's mind. "At least, not after 4:00."

"Oh, my God," Hakeem muttered, and Malcolm just laughed as Cookie came back in. "Well?"

"Somebody canceled on Dr. Patterson today," Cookie said coldly. "I got an appointment at 4:30 if we can make it."

"We can make it," Malcolm assured her. "Guys, we'll see you later."

Before they left, Anika turned her attention back to the crowd. "Malcolm?" Anika said, and her voice sounded almost like she was far away. "Is there anything in your security plans that are going to address?" she asked without thinking. "Like computer breaches?"

"That kind of software isn't really in my wheelhouse," Malcolm answered. "But that's something I can ask around about it. Why, you having a breach or something?"

 _Not anymore_. "Just wondering." She didn't look Malcolm in the eye when she said it. As she knew better than anybody, it was Malcolm's job to study things.

* * *

"Lori Holloway?"

Cookie went by her government name when she didn't want to be known, and God knew she didn't want to be known right now. "Hello, Ms. Holloway," the attending nurse greeted. "You and your husband can come this way."

Before Cookie could correct the nurse, Malcolm stood. "Thank you."

Cookie was too tired to argue, and she said little as Malcolm shook hands with the doctor and explained to him that they were coming by because he was concerned that Cookie hadn't been taking her medication properly and still wasn't feeling very well. _You black motherfucker_ , she cursed in her head as she gave short, clipped answers to Dr. Patterson's questions, occasionally prompted by Malcolm. Malcolm wasn't kidding when he said he was going to make sure Cookie was going to be okay, and she kind of hated him for it.

When Dr. Patterson handed her a gown and told her that he wanted to take another sample of her vaginal discharge, Malcolm's facial expression didn't change. Cookie, on the other hand, could've died. "You want me to text you when I'm done in here or are you waiting in the lobby?" she asked when the doctor left, swallowing back tears. She couldn't even look Malcolm in the eye.

"The lobby?" Malcolm asked. "For what? I've already seen you naked."

"Malcolm." Cookie was on the verge of crying. He had seen her naked, under much better circumstances. "Get out." She sure as hell couldn't undress in front of him. She had a pantyliner on, for God's sake. Dr. Patterson didn't even need to put her in stirrups – she could've just handed him her underwear. "I need to change."

"Is that any way to treat your husband?" Malcolm asked, pretending to be hurt. "You wound me, Mrs. DeVeaux."

"Malcolm!" Hot tears began to sting Cookie's eyes. Without thinking, she hurled the gown at Malcolm. Malcolm deflected the throw, but the gown still hit him full in the face. Cookie was half a second away from throwing her underwear at him, too. "You need to get out," Cookie ordered. _"Now."_

Malcolm looked down at the gown Cookie had thrown at him and tossed it on the bench. "I'll be in the lobby."

"I'll catch a cab back," Cookie said, embarrassed by her behavior, her situation, and just about everything else.

Malcolm sighed loudly. "Fine," he said over his shoulder. "I'll talk to you later." _Or not._

Cookie waited until she was sure Malcolm was gone before her tears started to fall. Her eyes were dry again by the time Dr. Patterson came back, but fresh tears formed when she laid back with her feet in stirrups and Dr. Patterson began to poke and prod. Anika had been right. The damage was no worse than it had been, but there was no improvement, either. "Ms. Holloway, do you realize how serious this is?" he asked sternly. "How much time we've lost?" Cookie had always hated being fussed at, even if she knew it was for her own good.

Dr. Patterson had said nothing unkind to her, but Cookie hands trembled as she got dressed. The idea of surgery terrified her. And a hysterectomy? God, why had she let this happen? And with _Laz_ , of all people? She would've been _less_ insulted had she gotten STDs from Lucious. At least she _knew_ Lucious wasn't shit. But Laz…it wasn't just what he'd done to Cookie, but to Hakeem, too. No matter what, Cookie knew that she could never live it down.

After seemed like forever, a soft knock on the door cut into her thoughts. "Come in." She was dressed again.

Dr. Patterson came back in, and – just as Cookie expected – Malcolm came in behind him. They both listened as the doctor discussed Cookie's additional medications - levofloxacin and metronidazole, along with the already nauseating doxycycline – and what times she was supposed to take them. Dr. Patterson was talking more to Cookie's "husband" than Cookie, who was so stunned that she was practically in a daze. More medication. More dosages. She couldn't even handle what she was supposed to take now.

When Malcolm called her name, she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Dr. Patterson just asked if you had any questions," Malcolm promoted.

Cookie hadn't heard a thing. "Uh-uh. I got it."

Dr. Patterson smiled and patted Cookie's knee. "I'm sorry if I made it sound worse than it is. It's not as bad as it seems. You just have to make sure that you're taking the meds _exactly_ as I prescribed them. You've got a good man looking out for you, so everything will be okay."

"We'll do it right this time," Malcolm promised, smiling sweetly at Cookie. "Won't we, Lori?"

"Go to hell, Malcolm," Cookie muttered, and she fumed as the men laughed.

* * *

Dr. Patterson sent the prescriptions over to Cookie's pharmacy before she left the doctor's office, and they were ready by the time Malcolm drove Cookie to the pharmacy's drive-thru, still in silence. What a difference it was from the last time they'd been in Malcolm's truck together, laughing and singing, kissing between every light, holding hands almost the entire time both to and from the Berkshires. On the way back, they'd been making plans to meet her sister, Carol, that very day. Within hours, he would be gone from her life forever, or so Cookie thought. Now he was back in her life just as randomly, and Cookie wasn't sure how to feel about it.

The ride back from the pharmacy to Cookie's place was just as quiet, so Cookie was surprised when Malcolm turned off his truck, got out, helped Cookie out and followed her into the house. While Cookie warmed up some more of Anika's soup and bread, Malcolm sat on the couch where she'd felt so happy and peaceful not too long ago. "I wasn't going to burn you, Malcolm," Cookie finally said as she moved around the kitchen. Her sexually transmitted diseases were a hell of a dinner topic, but it wasn't like Malcolm didn't know everything anyway. "I would never do that. You _know_ I wouldn't do that to you."

"Were you ever planning on telling me?" Malcolm asked, not really sure why he was so pissed, deep down. "Or were you just going to have a three-week long menstrual cycle?"

"What was I supposed to tell you?" Cookie asked, her eyes fixed on the rolls she was warming up. "That my coochie's goin' _drip, drop, drip-drippity-drop?"_

Malcolm said nothing for so long that Cookie looked up from the bread. "That's…" Malcolm shook his head and smiled. Cookie was going to be Cookie, no matter what. "You are _such_ a fucking lady, Cookie Lyon."

It was all he could managed before he slumped over, looking so much like her youngest son as he shook with laughter. "Shut up, punk ass!" Cookie hurled a roll from across the room, taking satisfaction at the explosion of bread against Malcolm's face, dusting Malcolm's hair with zucchini crumbs. Malcolm's head jerked up, and Cookie recognized the look in his eye, the one that flashed across his face a couple of times when they were up in the Berkshires and Cookie's hands got a little too loose, as they tended to do. _Oh,_ _ **shit**_ _…_

Even in pain, Cookie was quick. But Malcolm was quicker, and Cookie couldn't make it past him. Malcolm easily intercepted Cookie between the kitchen and the bedroom, and he slung over his shoulder, putting him at eye level with Cookie's ass. _"What-did I-tell-you-about-that-shit?!"_ Cookie screamed with laughter as Malcolm emphasized each word with a firm smack on Cookie's butt. _"Okay-okay-okay!"_ she squealed as Malcolm tossed her on the couch. "I'm sorry! _I'm sorry!"_

"That's better." Malcolm put one knee to Cookie's side and braced himself over her body. "Kiss me. And stop being so mean."

Cookie reached up for him, bringing Malcolm down on top of her. "I'm sorry," she said, dusting the crumbs from Malcolm's closely cropped hair. Good Lord, she hated his haircut. "About everything. I _am_ , Malcolm. I wish…if I could…"

Malcolm sat up and pulled Cookie into his arms. "You don't have anything to be sorry about. These things happen."

"What, you've had an STD before?"

"Me?" Malcolm blurted. " _Hell_ , no. I always use condoms."

Cookie swatted at Malcolm with a couch pillow. "Thanks a lot."

"Well…" Malcolm followed Cookie into the kitchen. "Cookie, just so you know. If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. And if you don't, I won't ask." It sounded like the right thing to say, though Malcolm wasn't really sure if he meant it.

"Thanks." Cookie knew that Malcolm didn't mean it. He was trying to mean it, but he really didn't want to know what happened. And that fine. Cookie never wanted to talk about Laz again. Not ever. She didn't even want to think about it.

* * *

Over soup, bread, and Anika's delicious cassava cake, Cookie brought Malcolm up to speed on Dynasty business, while Malcolm regaled her with tales of life in D.C. As they were finishing up their meal, the doorbell rang. "You expecting somebody?" Malcolm asked.

"Other than my boyfriend, no," Cookie teased.

"Sheeeeeit," Malcolm snarled, and Cookie laughed as she looked through the peephole. "It's Hakeem," she announced. She opened the door and embraced her youngest son. "Is that some more food?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah." Hakeem handed his mother a pair of bags. "More soup, and some kind of casserole-lasagna kind of thing. It's real good. And there's some pudding kind of stuff – I think it's for breakfast." He nodded at Malcolm. "S'up, bruh."

"I see you learned how to use a doorbell," Malcolm observed.

"It's almost six," Hakeem replied. _Ew._

While Cookie checked out the new Caribbean cuisine, a loud, annoying beeping noise filled the air. "What's that?" Cookie asked.

Malcolm reached across the table and picked up his cell phone. "It's 6:00. Time for your meds, Cookie."

"You are _kidding_ me, Malcolm," Cookie knew that Malcolm was going to make sure she was eating and taking her medication, but this was just ridiculous.

Hakeem laughed. "That's right, Malcolm. Keep her in line."

" _Traitor!"_ Cookie swatted at Hakeem, but he dodged it easily. "When does she take her meds?" Hakeem asked. "Just in case you aren't around."

"One when she wakes up in the morning, one after dinner and one before she goes to bed." Malcolm handed Cookie a small glass of water and a levofloxacin pill.

"So what, you're coming over here three times a day just to make sure Ma takes her medication?" Hakeem asked under his breath.

Malcolm shrugged. "If it comes to that. I got a hotel room," he answered, which was no answer at all. Malcolm would lose money on the hotel reservation he had if Cookie didn't plan on him staying, but he wasn't about to just invite himself over just because they were kicking it again.

When Cookie nearly choked on the tablet she'd swallowed, Hakeem and Malcolm knew where Malcolm would be sleeping for the next two weeks. "Oh, _God!_ " Cookie gasped. The bitter taste coated her tongue and throat, and her eyes were beginning to burn. Malcolm grabbed a Jolly Rancher from a dish on Cookie's coffee table. "Here, baby."

Gratefully, Cookie popped the candy in her mouth. "Thanks." She shuddered deeply. "Cake. I need cake."

"Let me see what's in that bag." Anika had really gone all out. Later, Hakeem would tell Malcolm that Anika had taken the afternoon off to cook for Cookie so that she would have fresh food for the next couple of days. A blood-born daughter couldn't have been more loyal to Cookie. "Try this, Cookie. It's a lot lighter than cake." He spooned a bite of a creamy smoothie-like dessert in her mouth. "It's called guava fool. Makes for a good bre…"

Malcolm shook his head as Cookie snatched the entire plastic bowl out of his hands. Why did he even bother? "That's stuff's not going to make it to the morning," Malcolm said, shaking his head.

"I'll ask Anika to make some more," Hakeem absent-mindedly.

Malcolm looked over at Hakeem. "Tonight?"

"Yeah." Hakeem tried to be casual about it, but Malcolm could see otherwise. A young kid in love with a woman – a _grown_ woman - that his mother hated. At least Anika made a helluva cassava cake. Maybe that would be enough to win Cookie over.

* * *

Cookie never thought there could be anything worse than doxycycline. Just two episodes into _a Game of Thrones_ marathon, Cookie saw that she was wrong. "Will you please just take a walk for 20 minutes or something?" Cookie begged Malcolm through her closed bathroom door. _"Please!"_ Thank God she'd had the wherewithal to make a mad dash for the guest bathroom, not her master bathroom. Otherwise, Cookie wouldn't be able to sleep in her bedroom for a week.

Even though Malcolm though Cookie was being ridiculous, he obliged, though he was gone for exactly 20 minutes and didn't leave the driveway since Cookie's door was still unlocked. When Malcolm came back inside, he found Cookie in her bathrobe on the couch, fresh from the shower. Soft and sweet-smelling, his ebony Ivory girl. "You alright?"

"I'm fine." Cookie wasn't fine, though. The short time alone in the bathroom and the shower allowed Cookie to think. Cookie still had to take the doxycycline before she went to bed. Two weeks of all of this stuff, _minimum_. And if she didn't, the consequences could be lifelong. And all over a piece of shit like Laz Delgado.

Before Cookie knew it, she was crying again. Cookie knew she wasn't a victim, and that this wasn't a punishment from God. A _consequence_ , yes, but not a punishment. Still, it didn't stop Cookie from feeling devastated and hurt and betrayed – not just because of the PID, but of the circumstances surrounding it all. What had happened to Hakeem was still the worst of it all, but Cookie always thought potentially losing her money and her label was the second worst thing. It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Malcolm had a feeling that this latest crying jag wasn't really about Cookie being sick, but about something deeper. Something underlying. He had no idea what to do about it, though. What Malcolm _did_ know was that any moment now, Cookie was going to start masking her pain with anger or rage. "Let's go to bed, Cookie," Malcolm suggested, unable to think of anything else to make things better.

It was only 8:15, but Cookie couldn't have thought of a better place to be right about then. "Where you stayin'?" she asked Malcolm.

"Depends on you."

"Where's your stuff?"

"In my truck. I came straight from the airport here. I haven't even seen my hotel room."

So Malcolm _hadn't_ expected to stay with Cookie after all. He'd made other plans. Spent his own money. And even with everything that was going on with Cookie's body – and everything that would not be going on with Cookie's body - Malcolm was _still_ willing with be with her for the next couple of weeks. He didn't pump her for information about her finances. He didn't run with a gang or beat up innocents. He was good to her sons. He also just said that he had a hotel room."You wanna leave?" Cookie asked.

Malcolm smiled, remembering that long-ago day in Cookie's office when she asked that question. "You want me to?" he countered, throwing back the same answer he'd given back then.

He was already backing her into the bedroom when Cookie answered. _"No."_

TBC


End file.
